


if i came to you for answers

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to more, M/M, Neighbors to Friends, Not hockey, fluffy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: “Thanks for the assist,” Zach says as Seth walks past him, and when Seth looks over his shoulder, he catches Zach staring longingly at the remains of his pizza.  Seth feels for him, and he’d wager a hefty sum on Zach’s fridge being empty save for a few cans of Red Bull and an almost-spoiled half-gallon of milk.  This is probably his first place on his own, Seth thinks, and he’s been on his own for awhile, but he remembers his first few months in his own place, surrounded by boxes of takeout and formerly white shirts that he’d accidentally turned pink in the wash.“Hey Zach,” he says, one hand on the doorknob just in case.“Huh?” Zach replies, blinking at Seth.“I have half a turkey sub in my fridge I probably won’t eat, if you want it.”





	if i came to you for answers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savedby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/gifts).



> for savedby, who wanted 'You're my new neighbor and I'm worried because you don't really look like you can live alone' AU.

Seth is starfished on his bed, arms tucked under his face and snoring into his bicep, when he wakes with a start to the shrill sound of -- what _is_ that, he wonders, pushing up onto his elbows and knuckling the sleep from his eyes. For a moment, he thinks maybe he imagined it, but nope, there it is, a loud, shrieking _beepbeepbeep_ coming from the other side of his bedroom wall. 

Smoke detector. _Shit_.

He nearly falls on his face in his rush to get up from his bed, the sheets tangling in his legs so he has to hop one-footed to his dresser to grab some pants. He yanks them on as he makes his way down the short hallway to his kitchen, fumbling in the dark to unlock his deadbolt. He stumbles out into the hallway with his heart racing; as far as he knows, the apartment next to his has been empty for months, and he envisions flames licking up the walls of the empty space, smoke billowing to the ceiling as the smoke detector screams.

He’s about to break the door down when it swings open on its own, and a kid, probably a few years younger than him, stands there like a deer in headlights. He shouts, startled, when he sees Seth, and Seth shouts back in response. 

“What the hell, dude?” Seth says in a loud whisper. They _do_ have neighbors, after all, and at least three of them are poking their heads out into the hall, obviously wondering what the commotion is. “Are you burning the building down?”

The kid shakes his head quickly and opens his mouth, presumably to explain why his smoke detector is going off at one in the morning, but before he can say anything, Seth all but manhandles him back into the apartment, waving an apologetic hand at the curious on-lookers before shutting the door behind them and making his way toward the offending noise.

There’s a pizza -- well, at least that’s what Seth _thinks_ it is -- burnt to a crisp on the stovetop, and puffs of smoke waft from where the oven is cracked open, the smoke detector beeping its warning just above it. Seth does a quick once-over of the kitchen and spots the corner of a dishtowel sticking from a half-opened drawer. He grabs it, waving it with both hands under the smoke detector until the beeping slows and, finally, stops.

Seth heaves a sigh, relieved, before remembering that he’s standing in the middle of a stranger’s apartment, basically saving him from being evicted before he even gets his boxes unpacked. 

“Wow,” the guy says, staring at Seth like he’s some sort of super hero. “Why didn’t _I_ think of that?”

Seth can’t help but laugh at the earnest look on the guy’s face, like he genuinely had no idea how to stop the smoke alarm from going off. “It’s not rocket science, man,” he says, feeling a little guilty when the guy’s cheeks flush. “Kidding,” he says quickly, but the guy’s still staring at his own feet. They stand in awkward silence for a long minute before Seth finally sticks out his hand. “I’m Seth,” he says. “I live next door. When did you move in?”

The guy looks up, the look on his face still openly sheepish, and shakes Seth’s hand. “Zach,” he says. “Just moved in yesterday.”

“Welcome to the building, man,” Seth says, offering his best smile. “Can I ask what you’re doing burning pizzas at one in the morning?” 

Zach scowls at him, folding his arms across his chest protectively. “Late shift at work,” he says. “Didn’t get a chance to grab any dinner on my break, so.” He waves his hand in the general direction of the blackened disk on his stovetop. 

“Ahh,” Seth says. He can’t blame the guy for that. “Fell asleep, huh?”

Zach blinks, then clears his throat. “Yeah,” he agrees, maybe too quickly. “Yeah, just, y’know. Passed out on the couch, woke up to the alarm going off.”

“Right,” Seth says with a smirk. “Well, anyway. I’m going back to bed. Nice to meet you, man.”

“Thanks for the assist,” Zach says as Seth walks past him, and when Seth looks over his shoulder, he catches Zach staring longingly at the remains of his pizza. Seth feels for him, and he’d wager a hefty sum on Zach’s fridge being empty save for a few cans of Red Bull and an almost-spoiled half-gallon of milk. This is probably his first place on his own, Seth thinks, and he’s been on his own for awhile, but he remembers his first few months in his own place, surrounded by boxes of takeout and formerly white shirts that he’d accidentally turned pink in the wash. 

“Hey Zach,” he says, one hand on the doorknob just in case. 

“Huh?” Zach replies, blinking at Seth.

“I have half a turkey sub in my fridge I probably won’t eat, if you want it.”

Zach’s eyes light up, and Seth sleeps a little better knowing he didn’t let his new neighbor go to bed hungry.

+

Two days later, he’s flat on his back under Zach’s new Ikea coffee table, tightening the screws that Zach hadn’t put in the first time around. “I didn’t think I needed them!” Zach said defensively, but he laughed when Seth raised an eyebrow at him and put a pen on the table, watching it roll down the uneven slope of the table and onto the ground.

“How do you know how to do all this stuff?” Zach asks when they’ve (correctly) assembled a bookshelf and hung a few family pictures on the wall. They’re sitting side by side on Zach’s couch in front of the blank TV set (“I have you _call_ to get the cable working?” Zach had said, and Seth only felt a little guilty for laughing at that one), and Seth pops the top on his beer and stretches his legs out in front of him, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I mean, I was young once too,” Seth says, laughing when Zach groans in annoyance.

“You’re like, two years older than me,” he says. “Did you take an extra home ec class in college or something?”

Seth snorts around his mouthful of beer. “I burned my fair share of pizzas when I first moved out on my own, man,” he says. “I dunno. You just fend for yourself, I guess, and eventually you figure it all out.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully I figure it all out before I run out of clean underwear,” Zach grumbles, and Seth laughs brightly, knocking their knees together. 

“C’mon,” he says, reaching for the phone. “I’m not coming over anymore until your cable is set up.”

+

“Oh my god,” Seth says under his breath, biting his lip to stop from laughing. He’s just gotten back from a run, and he pulls his earbuds from his ears as he makes his way towards Zach’s door.

Zach’s standing in front of it, his keys dangling from his mouth and a 12-pack of Mountain Dew tucked under one of his arms. He’s gripping at least 3 plastic bags in his left hand and a gallon of milk in his right, and he’s staring at his door knob like it’s going to magically unlock itself and let him in.

“Dude,” Seth says, and Zach jumps, the bags in his hand hitting the floor with a thud. Seth plucks the keys from Zach’s teeth and unlocks the door, holding it open for him. Zach shoots him a grateful look and brushes past him; Seth picks the up the bags from the floor and follows him inside, ignoring the increasingly distracting span of Zach’s shoulders and the way his back muscles shift under his shirt when reaches up to the top shelves to put away his groceries. 

“Dinner?” Zach asks when they’ve finished, and he laughs when Seth gives him a wary look. “I thought you could show me how to make pasta without turning the noodles to mush.”

There’s no way Seth can say no to that. He’s not about to let Zach starve, after all.

If he stands a little closer than is probably necessary when they’re stirring the sauce, well. He can blame it on the size of Zach’s kitchen. 

+

Seth looks up from his spot on the couch when there’s a sharp knock on his door. He mutes the game and puts his bowl of popcorn to the side, and he hasn’t even gotten to his feet yet when the knock comes again, louder this time.

“I’m coming!” he calls, and when he opens the door, he finds Zach there, rocking on his heels with his hands shoved in his back pockets. “Hey, man, what’s --”

“I need your help,” he says quickly, and then bolts down the hallway, leaving Seth to jog after him, confused. 

The confusion only lasts until the get to the laundry room, and he doesn’t even have time to react properly before Zach is shooting him a pleading look. “Fine,” Seth says, fiddling with the buttons on the machine until it stops whirring and shaking. 

“No, don’t -- “ Zach blurts, but it’s too late. Seth is already opening the top of the machine, and there’s no way he can hold back the laughter this time. 

“What even -- what did you -- “ he manages, laughing so hard tears start to collect at the corners of his eyes. 

“Shut up!” Zach whines. “I spilled red sauce on my shirt, I thought if I -- “

“You must have put an entire box in here!” Seth says between giggles, pressing the heel of his hand to his stomach where it’s starting to ache from laughing.

“I didn’t know!” Zach pouts, which only makes Seth laugh harder. Zach takes a step closer, peering over Seth’s shoulder at the soapy mess churning in the machine. “I think I used too much.” And then he bursts out laughing too, resting his forehead between Seth’s shoulder blades. “Oh my god, I’m a disaster.”

“You totally are,” Seth says, reaching into the machine to fish Zach’s shirt from the bottom. It’s dripping with water, caked in soap, but --

“Hey!” Zach says, triumphant. “The stain is gone!”

“Oh my god,” Seth laughs, tossing a handful of bubbles at him. “You’re hopeless.”

The laundry room is wet and soapy by the time they’ve stopped laughing. 

Seth can’t remember when he’s had this much fun.

+

Things calm down after that. Seth makes sure Zach knows just how much detergent to use, and he shows him where the shopping carts in the garage are so he doesn’t have to drag all his groceries upstairs under his arms. Zach’s noodles aren’t perfect yet, but they’re edible, and he’s even learned to call and add channels to his cable plan without having to ask Seth first.

It’s weird, though. Because Seth, well.

He kind of misses swooping in and saving the day.

So when he’s coming home from dinner with his buddies one night and spots Zach standing outside his own apartment, staring at the door, he can’t help the little adrenaline rush he gets. Zach must have locked himself out, he thinks, and he grins as he makes his way over. 

“And here I thought you had the living alone thing figured out,” he says, but his voice trails off when Zach looks at him, his eyes red-rimmed and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. “Zach? You ok?”

Zach sniffles and rubs one eye with the back of his hand. He digs his keys from his pocket and unlocks his door, leaving it open as he disappears into his apartment. Seth takes it as the invitation he hopes it is and follows Zach inside.

He finds Zach on the couch, his head resting on the top of the cushions, staring at the ceiling. “I suck at everything,” he says quietly. Seth’s never seen him this way -- embarrassed, yeah. Sheepish, of course. But never like this, never upset or sad or -- hurt, Seth thinks. He’s hurt.

“You do not,” he says, sitting down on the couch next to Zach, and then, softly, “What happened?” 

Zach sniffles again and clears his throat, blowing out a breath. “Told my buddy I’m gay.”

Seth swears his heart stops beating for long moments. He’d been expecting a breakup, or a fight with his parents, or a mistake at his job. Not --

“You’re gay?”

Zach laughs sadly, and Seth hears the bitterness in it. “What, you’re gonna hate me now too? Fine, man, whatever, fuck you, just -- “

“No,” Seth says firmly. “No way, Zach, I’d never, I mean -- that would make me a really big hypocrite, wouldn’t it?” Zach stares at him, eyes wide. “Since I’m gay too.”

“You’re -- what? You -- why didn’t you tell me?” Zach asks, and Seth resists the sudden urge to lean in and brush his lips over Zach’s forehead to smooth his frown away.

“Could ask you the same thing,” he says with a shrug. 

Zach sighs and stares at his lap. “I’m not really out,” he says to his hands. “Like. At all.”  
“Okay,” Seth says simply, and drapes his arm around Zach’s shoulders. Zach sighs again, sniffles softly, and relaxes into Seth’s side, his cheek resting on Seth’s shoulder. “Okay.”

+

“Hey,” Seth says to Zach, who’s standing at his door, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s up?”

“Guess what I did?” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Seth can’t help but smile; Zach’s happiness is contagious.

“Turned your shirts pink again?” he teases, and Zach rolls his eyes, still grinning. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” he says, and grabs Seth by the wrist, tugging him out of his apartment and over to Zach’s own. 

“What are you doing?” Seth laughs as Zach pushes him inside, where his breath catches in his throat before he can say anything else.

The apartment is dark save for the flickering light coming from the candles in the kitchen. A pan of lasagna, perfect for two, sits on the table, set with two plates, two forks, two knives, and two wine glasses. For a sickening moment, Seth thinks Zach has a date, and he’s showing him what he’s done before the guy arrives. 

But then he feels Zach behind him, his hands coming to rest tentatively on Seth’s hips. He’s shorter than Seth, so he must be up on his toes when he whispers “Do you like it?” his lips brushing the shell of Seth’s ear when he speaks. 

Seth doesn’t even know what to say, and his lack of response sets off the wrong one in Zach, who starts mumbling apologizes behind him. 

“Zach,” Seth says, but Zach doesn’t hear him, just keeps apologizing. “Zach,” Seth says, more firmly this time, before turning to face him. 

“I’m sorry,” Zach says again. “ I thought maybe -- “

 _”Zach,”_ Seth repeats, and Zach blinks, clearing his throat. “I love it.”

Zach’s mouth drops open adorably, just enough to make his lips part. “You do?”

Seth nods, taking a step closer, back into Zach’s space. “Who taught you to cook?” he teases, copying Zach’s move from earlier and letting his hands come to rest on Zach’s hips. His thumbs stroke the soft skin just beneath the hem of Zach’s shirt, and Zach lets out a shaky breath. 

“Anything else you could teach me?” Zach asks. “I’m a pretty quick learner,” and there’s nothing left to do then but for Seth to cup Zach’s face in his hands and kiss him. 

It’s awkward and sloppy until it’s not, and they end up eating cold lasagna between lazy kisses, sprawled out on Zach’s living room floor with the TV playing quietly in the background. 

They both jump when the smoke alarm start shrieking.

“Oh _shit_ ,” Zach says, scrambling to his feet. “The candles!”

Seth laughs as he watches Zach run into the kitchen. 

Some things never change.


End file.
